Martyr Complex
by WanderingJane
Summary: Tony knows he's going to die, but all he can do is hold Steve's hand and hope the others find them soon.
1. Tony

A/N: For horizon-labs, who asked for "a fic in which Steve is unconcious/dying and Tony takes the arc reactor out of his chest and gives it to him to save him. And then Steve's reaction when he wakes up." Here ya go. Hope it's what you were looking for! I split it into two chapters because I hate switching POV in the same chapter. I'm so sorry about the questionable science.

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They've been stuck in the cave for over twelve hours and Steve isn't getting any better. His wound is still bleeding sluggishly and he stopped responding to Tony's endless stream of questions a little over an hour ago. Tony's trying not to panic, but he's never liked caves, even before Afghanistan. He likes them even less now. And there's the small issue of his teammate lying semi-conscious on the cold, damp cave floor, but Tony's trying not to dwell too hard on that. He's already gotten out of his now-useless suit, and has torn up his undershirt and part of Steve's armor to use as bandages, but he's starting to run out of clean material and Steve's still bleeding.

It's been over twelve hours and Steve's _still_ bleeding. The serum's helped – a normal man wouldn't have survived that blast from Ultron – but his skin is flushed and his breathing is shallow. The other Avengers have to get them out eventually, but Tony morbidly wonders if they'll get there in time. The cave's mouth is filled with rocks and debris, and Tony's suit is too damaged to blast their way through.

Steve's skin begins to lose its sheen after another hour and the bleeding begins to slow down bit by bit. Tony's relieved until he sees Steve's face begin to turn ashen. He reaches over and shoves his fingers against Steve's throat and he instantly feels his stomach bottom out. Steve's pulse is almost non-existent. Tony quickly begins doing chest-compressions, those damn CPR lessons that he learned in boarding school all those years ago coming back to him, the instructor's annoying voice chirping in his head. He counts steadily and breathes into Steve's mouth. He wishes things were less dire so he could make a joke about kissing, to taunt Steve's blushing face and throw his arm around Steve's broad shoulders, but the only thought in Tony's brain is a desperate plea for his friend to live. They've only been teammates for a year and friends for a little less, and it's not enough. It's nowhere near enough because Tony wants _everything_.

He finally stops the CPR when Steve's pulse begins to strengthen again, and he lets himself fall back on his ass. Nausea coils tightly in Tony's gut, and he has to take several deep breathes to keep himself from throwing up. The air is dank and it crowds Tony's senses, pulling him down, down, down into an overwhelming swirl of dizziness and claustrophobia. And suddenly, it's all too much – the painful memories of his captivity in Afghanistan looming over him, bittersweet memories of fighting with Steve, laughing with Steve, arguing with Steve, the biting fear that Steve might not make it out of this cave alive. It's too damn much for Tony.

He breathes for several more moments before wiping the sweat and dirt from his eyes and turning back to Steve. Steve, who's the bravest man he's ever known. Steve, who's so good and earnest and believes in people so much. Steve, who makes everyone better just by being around him, even hopeless cases like Tony Stark. But even someone as hopeless and messed up as Tony can't let Steve Rogers die. If he managed to build his first suit from a box of scraps, he can damn well find a way to save his best friend.

Re-energized, Tony pulls himself to his feet and starts disassembling his ruined suit. He makes quick calculations in his head and scratches the more complex ones on the dirt floor, his arc reactor serving as the sole light source. His equipment consists entirely of scraps of his armor and torn off chunks of Steve's armor. He works diligently and stubbornly ignores him throbbing ribs.

It takes him longer than he would have liked - he's had to stop twice to give Steve CPR again– but he finally manages to come up with something semi-usable. The chest compressions can only do so much and the pressure causes Steve's wound to start bleeding again, but the little device he's cobbled together should be able to give Steve's heart enough juice to keep beating, at least until the others get them out. The only problem is that the only power source available is Tony's arc reactor. He lost track of time while working, so he has no idea how long they've been stuck in that cave. The rest of the Avengers could be moments away from getting them out or they could be hours away. If Tony takes his arc reactor out, if he gives it to Steve, he'll only have a few minutes before the shrapnel tears into his heart. He knows he's going to die, that he's never going to see Steve or the rest of his teammates ever again. He'll never see Pepper smile fondly at him or yell at him for missing another meeting. He'll never get to punch Thor's smug little brother's face like he promised to do the last time Loki tried to take over Earth. He'll never see Steve laugh or hear his serious, Captain-y voice giving out orders over the comms. He'll never order pizza from that place on 7th and watch Steve inhale two whole pies while watching stupid movies. He'll never get to puzzle out what exactly Steve means to him.

Tony doesn't hesitate to pull the arc reactor from chest. What other choice does he have? It was never a question because how could he not give Steve a fighting chance? A world with Tony Stark is fine, but a world with Captain America, without Steve Rogers, is a world without hope.

Tony carefully unwinds Steve's bandages and deftly connects his reactor to the makeshift pacemaker. Wires are crossed and rearranged until the crude device is finally in place. It glows brighter in Steve's chest than it ever did in Tony's. Steve finally begins to breathe easier, and his pulse steadies. Tony, gasping, shivering and pale, smiles tiredly at the sight. He doesn't think he's seen anything more beautiful than Steve's face lit up by the glow of the arc reactor. It had always looked hideous to him, but Steve makes it beautiful. He makes everything better.

Exhausted, Tony collapses next to Steve. He takes Steve's hand and holds it in his as his body begins to slow down. He bizarrely wonders what Steve thinks about sofas before he starts to see black spots dancing in front of his eye. Steve's hand slips from his own clammy one right before the black spots multiply and everything simply stops.

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A/N: The "Steve makes everyone better just by being around him" is paraphrased from one of Clint's lines in Hawkeye (2012) #1. The actual line from the comic is "…having Captain America around you all the time. He just – the guy brings out the absolute best in people." Part two will be up in a little while.


	2. Steve

Steve wakes up to the sound of machines beeping. For one horrible moment, he's convinced that he's missed another 70 years and will open his eyes to find himself surrounded robots or Daleks or something else from all the Science-Fiction movies Tony's made him see. It's the thought of Tony that makes Steve force his eyes open. Relief chokes him as he realizes he's in a normal, 21th century hospital, not a Dalek or robot in sight.

He's alone, though, and it makes his skin crawl. He hates walking up alone in strange places; It's too similar to how he woke up in a new century. He hears voices chattering outside and it causes some tiny tendril of a memory to begin taking shape. He slowly remembers the fight with Ultron, the blast, the blood, the cave. And Tony - Tony sitting next to him, half-out of his suit, talking in a low, hurried voice, begging him to stay awake, to not leave him alone. Everything's fuzzy, like an old film reel that's been sitting in an attic, gathering dust and cobwebs, but he has a perfect memory of Tony's eyes, pupils blown wide, and face streaked with blood and dirt as he lay next to him. Tony's hand was warm and heavy in his own – a solid, grounding comfort in those surreal, agonizing moments. He doesn't remember anything after that. Nothing. It's all blank. His mouth goes dry and he feels something cold flood down to his body.

The machines start screaming around him – a dissonant cacophony that makes his sensitive ears ring painfully. He tears off the needles and things that tie him to the bed and stumbles his way to the door. A nurse opens the door before his hand reaches the doorknob and fruitlessly tries to guide him back to the bed. Steve's dazed and disoriented, but he has enough presence of mind to ask the young woman where Tony is.

"Please," he says, his eyes bright and feverish. He has to know what happened, how they got out, has Ultron been apprehended. But most importantly, he needs to know if Tony's okay. And if he's not, he has to make sure Tony stays in bed and doesn't go off to do something stupid and brilliant.

The nurse tells him to go back to bed, that someone will be in shortly to explain. Steve swears he feels his heart stutter. He wants to fight the nurse, to beg her to take him to Tony, to tell him what happened, but he doesn't have any strength. His knees are weak and his entire body goes cold. Suddenly, he's not Captain America, just the same scrawny kid from Brooklyn who got beat up behind alleys and who worried so much about his best friend going off to the war without him.

Steve lets himself be led back to his bed and stares blankly at the shiny floors while the nurse re-inserts needles and reconnects devices all around him. She leaves him with the promise of finding someone to come talk to him. It only takes a couple minutes before he hears the echo of footsteps outside his door. For one beautiful moment, Steve's sure that Tony's going to walk in, immaculately dressed and grinning, and start teasing him about not eating his Wheaties or leaving him to do all the hard work while Steve pulled a Sleeping Beauty. But the door opens and Director Fury strides in, his demeanor somber and strangely subdued.

"What happened? Where's Tony?" Steve asks before Fury even sits down. Steve can't remember when Ironman and Mr. Stark became Tony. He wishes he could trace back every moment, every step of their relationship from their first meeting, to the fights, arguments, taunts, and jeers, to the late-night talks and movie marathons. He wants to remember it all because Steve wants _everything_. He's lost so much, but with Tony he doesn't feel like a man out of time, just a man who can laugh and smile and help people. His teammates mean everything to him and he would lay down his life for every single one of them, but Tony, Tony's different. Tony went from being an annoying "consultant," to being something like his best friend. He's still not really sure what to make of his relationship with Tony. It's not like it was with Bucky. It's just as strong and important, but there's something there that he can't really define, that he's scared to look at too closely. Steve breathes deeply, slowly, and looks up to meet Fury's eye.

"How much do you remember?" Fury asks.

"We were fighting Ultron. I took a hit. Ironman and I were caved in. That's all I know, sir." Fury sighs quietly.

"The blast caused a lot of internal damage. The serum kept you alive, but you lost a lot of blood and your heart didn't handle the trauma too well. Stark put together a device to keep your heart going, but he had to use his arc reactor as a power source." Fury's words are clinical and detached, but his tone is sympathetic. The two combined are enough to make black spots dance in front of Steve's eyes.

"Breathe, soldier," says Fury, his large hand gently grasping Steve's shoulder. Steve obeys and waits until the spots disappear before he speaks.

"Tony – is he – what happened?" His throat is dry, his voice hoarse.

"The team found you pretty soon after Stark took out his reactor, but Stark's heart," Fury cuts himself off and his grip on Steve's shoulder is no longer comforting but menacing. "I'm sorry, Cap. Stark didn't make it. He was already gone when Thor and Hulk cleared the rubble."

Fury keeps talking, but Steve doesn't hear any of it. Everything feels surreal, like he's trapped in one of the paintings he used to love before he lost time. He feels like he's being submerged under water, slowing sinking through murky, muddy waters. Sound doesn't have any meaning; It's all muted and dull and empty.

Something shakes him and pulls him out of the water; Fury's yelling into his face, machines are going off, nurses grasp and pull his body in every direction, but Steve doesn't care. He's watching everything from behind a shade. It won't last. He knows it won't. The same thing happened when Bucky fell from the train. He was numb until they got back to base. Then it was endless days of tears and useless bottles of cheap alcohol. There's no rushing train or mission to distract him this time. He waits for the tears to start. What else can he do when the bright light from Tony Stark's arc reactor has gone out?

The world doesn't stop just because Ironman's gone or because Tony Stark won't be making headlines anymore. Villains continue to terrorize the city - Dr. Doom launches three more attacks; Magneto tries to move the Empire State building; HYDRA tries to destroy New York again. It should be noted, however, that Loki mysteriously disappears for several months before trying anything. Steve gives him the smallest of smiles the next time he attempts to spread mischief.

The Avengers begin recruiting more and more members – mutant twins, a super-powered military pilot, a boy who shoots webs and slings from buildings. Every new member shakes Steve's hand and eagerly listens to the sad-eyed captain tell the story of the arrogant, crazy, brilliant man who saved the world over and over again. Every time someone walks by the Avengers tower, they nod solemnly to the statue that stands proudly in the garden. It's not tasteful or modest. Steve made sure it was as flamboyant and life-like as the man it pays tribute to.

Steve walks through the garden, his helmet in hand and his armor torn in several places. He nods at the statue, a small smile playing across his lips, and walks inside. The world will always remember Tony Stark as Ironman – the genius, playboy, billionaire, philanthropist avenger who invented a lot of things and save the world from super-villains on a weekly basis. A few select people will remember him as a teammate, boss, or friend. But Steve, Steve will always remember Tony as the man who was his closest friend, the man who gave him a place to live, a family to love, a reason to keep fighting.

He's the man who could have been more than just Steve's friend, and the man who gave his heart to save Captain America.

**Fin.**


End file.
